


Every Bit of It (aka Everyone Hates Aaron Burr)

by CoralFlowerBad (CoralFlower)



Category: Hamilton (Miranda)
Genre: M/M, alternate scenario for Your Obedient Servant, now with Eliza's Reaction, now with jeffburr smut lmao, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8642617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoralFlower/pseuds/CoralFlowerBad
Summary: He was a mistake. Trusting him was a fucking mistake. The wind cuts across your face and blows tears out of your eyes. You don't remember moving outside, and you are suddenly surprised to find yourself sat down on the stone wall that brackets the gate. You are not prepared to face anyone.--- (chapter two)"What do you want, Burr." It's not a question the way you say it. You say it like you really mean go away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea what this is
> 
> just fucking take it okay

Dear god. Fuck. 

Well the windows appear shattered or at least warped, because the late day's light is shimmering in your eyesight. 

He was a mistake. Trusting him was a fucking mistake. 

The wind cuts across your face and blows tears out of your eyes. You don't remember moving outside, and you are suddenly surprised to find yourself sat down on the stone wall that brackets the gate. 

You are not prepared to face anyone. 

He's a scoundrel, that Aaron Burr. 

Footsteps scatter themselves out in a rough line behind you, getting closer, and without turning around, you say,

"My God, haven't you done enough."

The remaining light of dusk doesn't illuminate well enough to really see by. 

"I wasn't aware that 'enough' was even in your vocabulary."

You turn to look at him, and the comfortable smile on his face pulls you apart, excruciatingly slowly. In the past, it has done so gently, even kindly, like when he smiled up at you from between your legs and you felt like maybe it was okay to fall apart. Now the sight of his face only aches.

"I learned it from you, Burr."

You look away again. He chuckles, and you swallow, finally talking less. 

"Are you alright, Alexander?"

You turn back to him and smile.

"Of course."

He shakes his head, shoves his hands deep in his pockets, and levels a disbelieving look at you.

"You're lying."

He almost seems surprised after he says it, like he didn't think it over beforehand and just said the first thing that came to his mind. 

"Okay."

You smile again, because tears are the alternative. 

"Alexander. I'm going to regret saying this, but please."

He takes a deep breath, and you feel the smile freeze on your face. 

"Talk more. Smile less. Show your pain."

You shake your head.

"You are in no position to give me advice."

He grimaces, and something tiny and twisted inside you cheers. 

"Alexander--"

"Shut up, Burr. Go and seduce Jefferson, why don't you."

"Seduce--"

You lift your legs over the side of the wall to turn fully around, and jump down. 

"Yes, seduce him, why don't you."

He's taller than you now. 

"Be sensible, Alexander--"

You lift a hand to point straight at him. He jerks back. 

"While you're at it, you can go ahead and corrupt Washington too, I know you've always been bitter since he didn't acknowledge you--"

"Alexander--"

"I just don't know where I went wrong, Burr! I have always acknowledged you, I have always been your--"

You cut yourself off, hesitate, and then continue. 

"And you go around, like some--"

You swallow compulsively and shudder. 

"Like some fucking siren, everyone who listens to you drowns. And you can't even be satisfied with me now that I've surrendered, you have to leave me and go after someone else, after three people at once, my friends, Burr, my friends. Do you ever plan to stop spreading your legs for every--"

"Careful how you proceed, Alexander."

The look on his face is dangerous and you know he knows enough to ruin you utterly. It's surprisingly annoying to be so vulnerable like this. You want to shoot him right now. You want to hold his life in your hands and squeeze down. 

"Burr--"

"I accept your apology, Alexander."

You didn't apologise. 

"I'm not sorry, Burr. I'm just not. I didn't say a word that wasn't true."

"Then stand, Alexander."

You nod. 

"You're on."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note that this is not the usual way i write aaron burr, and this is nowhere near the same characterisation as in my other fic(s) with him in them. thank you.

There's a cold feeling in your hands. You are knitting furiously and he stands in front of you smiling, always smiling, your husband is dead and he just goes on smiling. 

"What do you want, Burr." 

It's not a question the way you say it. You say it like you really mean _go away_.

"Only to pay my respects."

Alexander lies dead in the next room over and -- no, it has been weeks, Alexander has been buried already -- he may as well be in the next room dead for how it still hurts.

"I've heard a lot about you, Burr. Are you here to take advantage of me, because I'll have you know--"

"Did he call me a siren?"

Your mouth falls open at his audacity. He isn't even acknowledging your accusation. You wish it were acceptable for women to duel. His lazy grin gets under your skin in the worst way possible.

"You strike me as a woman who has never been taken in by a pretty face with no principles to back it up, Mrs. Hamilton."

You feel your face morph into a glare, and when you speak, your voice is frigid.

"If you admit you have no principles, why did you duel him for telling that to everyone?"

"That isn't what I dueled him for. I dueled him because he accused me of spreading my legs for every--"

"But that's also true!"

He shrugs, and then rolls his shoulders.

"Actually, I dueled him because he was determined to be loudly in pain, and I didn't want him to keep getting after me about all those times he and I... Well."

He smirks obstinately at you, and you knit even faster.

"Get out of my house. And good luck finding welcome anywhere. You may have wormed your way into every bed in the country, but Alexander made himself a place in everyone's hearts. And beds can be bought with money."

He shrugs again.

"Say it."

"And so can whores like you, Burr."

"He sought me out time after time after time. It is those who pay that allow--"

"Get out of my house, Burr."

You don't like his insinuations that Alexander is the one at fault. Burr seduced the wife of a British officer before the war was even over. He has a long history of fucking things and fucking things up, and you won't listen to his excuses. You want him out of your house and your life.

He leaves, walking like someone who has everything he wants, and everything everyone else wants, too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where burr stops being based on a demonised version of my ex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a warning, the rating has increased to explicit because this is gratuitous smut.

You have no idea how you got here, and you know even less about how _he_ got you here. How did he get you here? How did you, Thomas Jefferson, allow yourself to be tricked into touching this man?

Upon further reflection (aka him swallowing around you), it's almost definitely his mouth that did it. Or maybe it was his voice, when he talked about what he wanted from you and made it sound like an offering, like you're some divine power and the least he can do is suck you off-- shit, it was so obviously a trick. 

All he has to do now to ruin you is come clean about this, and you know yourself well enough to know you wont be able to handle denying it. He is already low enough in the public eye that this revelation wouldn't make much difference.

But it's difficult to care about that when his mouth is around you and so warm and wet. He has very soft lips and knows exactly how to wrap them around you so you fall apart. It's unfair, and entirely infuriating.

He pulls off of you for a moment to press a kiss to the base and smirk up at you, and you curse, grabbing at the arms of your chair because eye contact makes it so much more intense, and gasp out,

"God, don't, don't kiss it, fuck."

He smiles and asks,

"What would you have me do, Mr. President?"

It's not at all fair how he's down there on his knees completely unruffled while you're up here struggling to catch your breath, and you want to see him as wrecked as you. You place one hand on the back of his neck and the other just above that one, and tell him,

"Allow me to show you, Mr. Vice President."

He's still smirking. 

"Of course."

So you guide him down, carefully; you aren't sure yet that you want to choke him, you just want to make him feel like he's overwhelmed, not actually overwhelm him. He sucks in his cheeks and presses his tongue against the underside of your cock, and you smother a moan. Your hands on his neck falter for a moment, but you steady them carefully and pull him down. He shuts his eyes and frowns just a bit, and you can't help thinking that you like this better than with a woman. 

You stop thinking about that. That way lies destruction. 

His expression betrays the smallest bit of perplexedness, and when he opens his eyes to gaze up at you, you can see he's having some trouble. You like the way his face looks like this, just on the edge of having to concentrate. 

"Pretty,"

is how you'd describe him right now. He starts to pull off, you hold him down, he whimpers, and you let him go. His mouth hangs open and he looks up at you just on the edge of a daze. 

"I'm sorry what?"

You feel your lips curl up into a smirk and he swallows. You watch his throat. He watches you watching him, waiting for an answer. 

"You know, it's funny, Burr."

His frown grows more pronounced for a moment, but then he seems to realise he's frowning and his features smooth out. For a moment he appears at a loss for an expression, but then he settles for an intrigued-but-friendly smile.

"What is?"

You sort of wish he had hair so you could tug on it to make the point, but oh well. 

"I never understood before how you constantly told Hamilton about the power of words and how it's important to be careful with them, but now, seeing you be so affected just by two syllables..."

He rolls his eyes at you, and you hear more in what he doesn't say as he reaches up to start jerking you off than in what he does say, namely,

"Now, about Justice Chase."

What the fuck. 

"As Vice President, I'll be presiding over his impeachment trial."

You know this already, why is he repeating it again with his hand around your dick and his head between your legs. 

"Okay, yeah, your point?"

He smirks, and a shudder runs through you. 

"You cannot impeach someone solely because you disagree with his politics."

He reaches down and undoes his belt as he says it, and you don't like the look on his face. What could he be planning? It's hard to focus with him stroking you. 

"I didn't impeach him, that was-- that was the house of, nh, of representatives."

His hands are suddenly on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, and you almost panic. But he doesn't try to stick it in you, just positions himself over you and nudges his dick up against yours. 

It's embarrassing, the way you cry out at the contact and arch up against him. He leans down to whisper in your ear, and the sound of his breath makes your whole spine and the back of your neck tingle.

"If you think I'm going to stand by while you set the precedent that it's okay to kick someone out just for being of a different party, then you are sorely mistaken, Mr. President."

He puts a hand on the back of your neck and his other around the two of you as he begins to move against you. You swallow a moan and buck your hips. 

"You may've locked me entirely out of all party politics, but you have no control over this. And I am going to do my damnedest to keep you out of my way."

Dear lord, but this man knows how to hold a grudge.

"Burr--"

You hate yourself for the quaver in your voice. He cuts you off, anyway. 

"Jefferson. You aren't going to stop this."

He's talking both about what's happening now and his intentions for the trial, you realise, as he lets go of your respective cocks to hold your hips down. 

"It's my turn to be in the room where it happens."

You reach down and try to get him to let you up, and his hand is suddenly at your neck and you're confronted with the sudden wave of heat that seems to roll through you as you think ahead to the possibility of him squeezing down. Jesus. 

Okay. You could have gone your whole life without knowing that about yourself. 

"Burr,"

you can't seem to summon up the words you need, with him holding you down and looking at you like he'd just love to tease you forever. 

"Burr, _please_."

You grab at his hand, the one at your neck, and he quirks an eyebrow, like, _do you really want to do that_. You let out this embarrassingly breathy whimper as he centers his hand over your throat, not even squeezing-- why are you so _easy_ \-- he's just holding you almost gently.

"Jesus, Burr--"

He applies just enough pressure that you can feel it in your face, you can still breathe completely fine, but it's honestly like he's crushed your trachea, for all that you can say anything. It's intense as fuck. You register in the back of your mind that you're making a lot of noise right now. 

He watches you almost harshly. You can tell he's taking note of everything, probably considering whether he could get you to beg him to choke you with his dick, or something. You feel boneless under his gaze.

His expression morphs into something contemplative, probably on purpose, and you swallow apprehensively. He scares you a lot right now. It's hot. 

"I'd call this quite the interesting power dynamic, Mr. President."

His lips brush your ear that time, making you shudder. And then he stops holding himself up and presses you down with his weight, you can hardly move and god, why is it hot. 

Well, it's hot, and you're gone, completely gone. He makes eye contact and you look back at him as you come beneath him. He's way too pleased with himself. You hate him for making you love it.


End file.
